Thirteen Months Since Morbihan
by BrieflyDel
Summary: Sabine makes it a point never to learn the names of her victims. But by chance, one little boy becomes known to her... and so begin "The Life & Times of Remus Lupin (The Important Bits)".
1. Sabine

__

So it happened to me. I was bitten, and it's made my life hard. But no harder than living with the Sight, and much easier than vampirism. Anyway, werewolves are much better prophets than Seers -- all we need is a lunar calendar.

But the point is, it happened, and the only thing I can do is not let it dominate my life. When I was well enough to speak to my mother after that first night, she said to me, "You know what this means, Remus? It means you must never give them a reason to use it against you." I've always tried to follow that. I think the root of what horrifies people about werewolves is they see us as masquerading as humans. Well, my job is to show them that I am a man too.

* * *

Sabine was glad to see the Cliffs of Dover from the ferry. There was too much lurking behind her in _Bretagne, _too many creatures of her own making to remain there. She disembarked from the boat and headed out into England on foot, sometimes sleeping in abandoned road stops or empty farmhouses. Her halting English improved the more she had to ask people for food, or spare change. After three weeks in the country, she felt herself warm a little to her situation. _This is a place where I can start anew,_ she concluded happily as she watched the sun set over Cambridge. That next morning she ventured eastward towards The Fens, which were wild enough places to keep her alone come the full moon.

The night passed, and Sabine was fiercely proud of herself. She had taken no one. She was determined to start another streak like her last one -- twenty-three moons between bites, and the one that had broken that had been a silly neo-pagan type dancing in the stones outside of Morbihan. She had really been asking for it.

__

Sabine! No one asks for such a fate! You must stop yourself from thinking these things.

Sabine shook her head forcefully, then picked herself up and began heading for those famous Yorkshire moors.

The month after that found her in the Lake Country, which was very beautiful, but difficult to find an isolated range in. She chided herself -- something in her had been tempting her. _I must resist it._

Next month she was in Wales, and found the mountains quite to her liking. The local wolves did not bother her once one tribe spread word of her presence, and there were enough sheep so that she could keep herself satisfied. She remained there until a close miss with a shepherd boy, when all that saved him was the devotion of his collie. She could not afford another like that, and so moved on through Wales into Cornwall.

It had been thirteen months since Morbihan when Sabine made her way through the Mendips Hills onto the Salisbury Plain. She had always had a strong attraction to the work of the ancients, of the towering menhirs and monolithic dolmens, and the great shapes carved into _la Terre_ herself. _Someday I must go to Ireland, _she promised herself as she walked into the square of a small town near Winchester. _Welcome to Longwhite! _a friendly sign proclaimed. _Home of Britain's Largest Native Butterfly Farm! Museum open 9:30-12, 1:30-4 weekdays; 9-5 Saturdays; closed Sundays. Admission free. Bring the whole family!_

Sabine could not help but smile. She wondered what the day was, and hoped for a short walk around the farm. She had always enjoyed butterflies. She kept too much company with moths to much appreciate them.

* * *

Roberta Lupin had noticed the thin, ragged woman reading the advert in the square, and properly stunned by the state of her clothes had hurried out of her husband's grocery and chemist to invite her in for tea, for goodness sakes. The girl was French, and was not a very confident speaker, but Roberta struggled to bring up some of the language from her schooling days and converse with the poor dear. Sabine Sylvain her name was, just come out of university and backpacking about England before she went to work.

Sabine thanked her gratefully as she sat in borrowed clothes and sipped some Earl Gray, while Roberta ran her rags through the wash. A young boy, about five or six years old, bounded down the stairs carrying a bright red ball. He ran over to his mother's side and told her with bright eyes that he was going out to play with Charlie and Milo at the park. Roberta hugged him to her side and, smiling, introduced Sabine.

__

"Quel poupet," Sabine smiled. "What is his name?"

"Remus," said Roberta proudly, hugging him a little tighter as the boy stared at her with large, dark eyes. "Say hello, dearie," she prompted.

"Hello," he responded automatically, and then slipped out from under her grasp and left the store, the bell tied to the door ringing for several seconds after his departure.

Sabine continued to converse with Roberta, well after her clothes were washed and ironed ("I won't have you going about like you was, dear! Least a person can do, think nothing of it.") Roberta offered to give her a room upstairs for a spell, but Sabine had been watching the moon and shook her head violently. "I cannot, but I thank you," she said. After changing and thanking Roberta once more, she left the store and headed out towards the butterfly farm, which Roberta had given her directions to.

It was 5:30 when she arrived, but the keeper saw few enough visitors that he gladly let her in, and she wandered the greenhouse for an hour. She thanked him as she left.

She came to a sufficiently empty area around sunset. She made her way to a cluster of trees, removed her clothes, folded them neatly (not wishing to undo Mrs. Lupin's kind work), and waited, naked, for the moon to rise. 

The change came as painful as ever. But once it was complete she felt the old vitality coursing through her. The world just seemed so much more _real _when she ran on four legs. The smell of a rabbit warren was the first that reached her, and she amused herself for a good while scattering the dumb creatures about the plain.

But then a higher, sweeter scent reached her nose, and her mouth began to water as soon as her sharp nose picked it up. She knew exactly what it was, and she knew there was a part of her that was screaming _S'arrête! S'arrête! _but the animal was too strong, and the wolf broke free and began tracking it down.

She thought she had seen the boy somewhere before: he had great dark eyes and was carrying a ball that might be red. He had been playing on the plain with his friends too late tonight, and was just making the trek back into town, bracing himself for the furious scolding his mother would give. He did not see her for a good many mile, and she delighted in stalking him in the cover of brush, keeping the excitement at bay and letting it mount until the joy and the hunger would be uncontainable.

He was within sight of the spires of Longwhite when she could hold back no more. She charged at him from the front, an unnamable glee dashing in her mouth, and heard his piercing, terrified shriek as she bowled him over. She watched almost lazily as he picked himself up, gaping at her, and began to run. She might have laughed had she had the ability. But her mouth was good for only one thing. She chased him down again and cornered him. As he stood, petrified, in front of her -- like the rabbits she had been fiddling around with before -- a few thoughts crossed her head, as they sometimes did in these situations.

__

You cannot do this, Sabine. His mother gave you food. She ironed your clothes. She told you his name.

The wolf in her snorted contemptuously. _His name! Remus. Remus. With a name like that --_

She did not finish. She lunged forward and sank her teeth in his right thigh. A triumphant howl escaped from her throat while he screamed and screamed and screamed.

* * *

Sabine awoke the next evening with great dolor in her heart. Something was wrong, she'd done something wrong in the night. _Thirteen months,_ she repeated, trying to discern the sin, _treize mois. Surely I have not. I have been so good!_

She slipped her washed and ironed clothes onto a mud- and sweat-streaked body and walked into town. The waning moon lit her way very easily. The town square was empty, but there were many people in the Lupins's store. She looked up, sadly, at the lit window shining out over the square. The silhouettes of a bedpost, and of many people leaning over the frame, moved across the shade like a puppet play. She knew the scene that was occurring within. The little boy would be sweating and moaning, and shaking with great tremors every hour or so. He would cry out often in his delirium, and would sleep for close to three days. When he awoke, he would be very thirsty, and would wonder about his bandaged leg. His parents might be wizards, or find someone who was, and they might recognize the symptoms, and they would find someone to tell him, solemn-faced, the fate that awaited him come the next full moon while his parents sobbed quietly beside him.

This was the first one she had known the name of. That made things very bad for a moment. _Remus Lupin. Remus._ She shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of some pest. _With a name like that he's practically begging for a bite,_ she told herself coldly, and turned and headed north out of the square.


	2. Problems

_"Dumbledore -- a word, please?"_

_I recognized Minerva's stern, urgent voice and resisted the temptation to reply with "Ickabiddle," a rather jolly little word I'd recently picked up from a Muggle children's book. I looked up. Minerva was standing in the doorway with a rather distressed expression on her face. Standing, I answered, "Certainly."_

_I expected her to come into my office, but instead she continued speaking from the door. "It's the Register. I think there's something wrong with it." Wondering why she was inspecting the registry so early in the year aside, nonetheless I followed her out of my office and through the many corridors towards the Owlery, which was adjacent to the room which held the Register. Neither of us spoke. A problem with the list of magical children to be admitted to Hogwarts could be grave indeed. I braced myself, expecting too many names, or perhaps a lazy quill which only wrote initials._

_Yet everything looked in order when we examined it. I bent over the book, scanning the page. "I came up here to get an idea about how many letters I'd be writing," she said, a slightly frantic edge to her voice. "But when I came here --" She pointed at a section towards the bottom of one page. I saw what she meant._

_Line upon line of names sparkled in green ink. _Maryanne Wryst. Sirius Black. Michael Ledgewood. Severus Snape._ But between _Adrienne Osgood_ and _Cormac Neeson_, the space was blank. Or rather, almost blank. The name was there, though so faintly it was barely legible. _Remus Lupin_. I studied the name for a few moments more, then stepped back and gazed out the window._

_Minerva watched me anxiously. "What does it mean, Professor?"_

_"It means," I replied thoughtfully, "that we have a special case on out hands."_

* * * 

The Lupin family moved around a lot after Remus was bitten. Owen Lupin was a wizard, though he lived in the Muggle world, using his mediocre skills in Potions and Herbology for self-made pharmacy. When they left Longwhite, he satisfied his neighbors by telling them it was rabies, and they were going to London to try and find treatment. But he knew the mark of a werewolf, and every time he watched his young son writhe in his bed, he was afraid. 

The first full moon was perhaps the hardest. Remus ate nothing during their early supper, only staring at his plate numbly, asking questions in a frightened voice. 

"What's going to happen to me, Da?" 

"You'll take on a wolf form tonight, son, from the moment the moon hits you 'till the sun rises again." 

"What'm I going to do?" 

"You'll want to bite people. We'll have to keep you away, so you can't." 

"Where are you putting me?" 

"The old bomb shelter, near Mr. Radley's house." 

Remus gazed at him with wide, scared blue eyes. "Will it hurt?" 

Owen put his knife and fork down on his plate and looked back. "I don't know, son. Most likely it will." 

Roberta stood up, biting her lip so as not to cry again, and began clearing away plates. 

* * * 

The sky was still fire orange and pink when the Lupins arrived the abandoned bomb shelter. It was a crudely constructed affair, more like a tornado cellar than anything else. The wood on the door was cracked and gray, and had warped so that there were visible gaps between planks. 

Remus's mother knelt down and kissed him between the eyes. "This doesn't mean we love you any less," she said softly. "We'll come for you in the morning, alright?" 

Owen too kissed his son, a rare occurrence. He searched his boy's face. "Anything you need b'fore we go?" 

Remus had a stunned looked about him, and he was shaking all over, but he shook his head and whispered "No." 

Owen looked over his shoulder at the sky and said, "We'd best be moving, Roberta, sun's nearly down." Remus watched his parents go, and only began to cry when the door was shut and the lock on the other side clicked. 

There was an emergency light in the center of the ceiling, and after some effort and loud humming, it came on. When Remus's face was dry, he began looking around the room. Shaky wooden shelves lined two of the walls, empty of canned food or water. A plug was nestled on the far wall, an old one for an old radio long since removed. Everything else was concrete, bare and hard. 

He wondered how long he had been in here. Surely the sun had set by now. He held his arms out in front of him and examined them. If it happened gradually rather than all at once, he certainly wasn't sprouting fur and claws just yet. There are no windows in here, he thought as he wandered toward the door. Maybe if no light comes in, it won't happen. 

Outside, the moon came out from behind a cloud. As Remus backed away from the door, a sliver of light shot through a crack. Every muscle in him stiffened. And then he began to change. 

And it hurt. 

* * * 

The sun rose at 6:02 AM. Owen Lupin opened the lock on the bomb shelter at 7:13, as soon as he arrived. He heaved the heavy door open and sprang back, unsure if his son or the wolf would greet him. When nothing happened, he peeked in. 

All the shelves had collapsed, having been torn apart at the bottom. The light flickered untouched on the ceiling. Remus lay in a heap wedged in a corner, huddled and pressed as close to the wall as it would allow. His clothes were in shreds, and his body was covered with bruises and cuts. Owen felt his heart stop. "Oh, my boy," he moaned quietly, and walked over and picked his unconscious son up. He carried the boy in his arms, walking across the Salisbury until he reached his wide and their waiting car. 

* * * 

_Every owl at the school worth his salt knew what day it was. Letters. Letters for all the students. Especially the newest ones. We formed a line at the window into the Registry as soon as he heard McGonagall's quill scratching parchment. All day I watched my fellows fly off from the front of the queue with that letter in their beaks. As the line shorted, I worried that they would run out of students, that I would be assigned elsewhere. Last year I had delivered the letter to the new Head Girl, for which they fed me quite well, but bringing the acceptance letters has always been my favorite job._

_I waited until evening before I came up. And I was in luck! There was one letter with the green ink remaining. I stepped forward to take it._

_"I'm sorry, but you're not needed."_

_I looked up at McGonagall and blinked. Not needed? If there's one thing you never tell a mail owl, it's that. Glaring at her, I scrambled forward to grab the envelope._

_"Oh no you don't!" I received a short _thwack!_ on the side and rolled over on the table. McGonagall scowled at me. "Fine, you can take this one if you're so intent on working." She handed me a parchment addressed to Mundungus Fletcher. Indignant, I ruffled my feather and looked away. "Oh come on!" she snapped. "That one's special, alright? The Headmaster himself is delivering it, so there's no need to act like you've been slighted."_

_With bad grace I took the envelope and flew away. The Headmaster deliver it indeed..._   
__


	3. Dumbledore

The walk between the Grigsby marketplace and the Lupins' trailer was very long and empty, but Remus enjoyed the scenery and the solitude, so he didn't mind. He liked the Lake District, where they had been living for three weeks now. It was far better than Liverpool, and Remus felt a lot safer here too. 

The dusty dirt path took him alongside a stream, which he eyed longingly as he bore the milk bottles and grocery bags home. The sun was pounding down overhead, and he was sweating buckets. After another mile, he gave in. _It won't take too long for a little splash,_ he reasoned.He carefully walked sideways down the slop of the bank, and set the groceries down at the base of a tree. After a hesitant pause, he grinned and ran unabashed into the water. The brook was only two feet deep, but the freezing cool water felt wonderful. He dunked himself, and then pretended to have a splashing fight with a nearby frog, which croaked squawkily and hopped away. Remus considered chasing it, but then resigned himself to the task of bringing home the groceries. 

As he climbed back up the slope, he noticed a strange old man standing on the path watching him. Remus froze, mortified. He hadn't seen him on the path before, and he hadn't heard him approach. Remus didn't quite know what he was expecting from the stranger, but it certainly wasn't an offer of help. But the old man (who had the most wonderful long white beard Remus had ever seen) asked in a kind voice, "Would you like a hand?" His instincts were very clear about the man: _you can trust him, Remus, you can always trust him._ He gulped, and then with a shy, embarrassed face, he replied that that would be lovely, thank you. 

The old man took the milk, but Remus refused to let him take the groceries. He slung the bag over his shoulder and climbed up the slope. "Thank you, sir," he repeated, a bit apologetically. The old man beamed and answered, 

"You are very welcome, Mr. Lupin." 

Remus stopped. "How...how do you know my name?" 

The old man's eyes gleamed. "I know a great many things, some of which I should like to discuss with you on the way back to your home. Might I accompany you?" 

Dumbfounded, Remus stuttered and then supposed he could. They walked in silence for a while, Remus staring at his bare feet, and the old man admiring the scenery. "It is lovely country up here, I must say!" he commented. "The Muggle poets certainly knew what they were talking about, lauding this place." Remus frowned. Had he really just heard the word "Muggle"? Surely not. It wasn't real. It must have been "Romantic" and he just misheard. 

"Mr. Lupin -- do you mind if I call you Remus?" 

Remus looked at the man. "I... I don't, but sir, I don't know your name." 

"I am Albus Dumbledore," he said gently, "Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." 

Remus stopped walking. He stared at Dumbledore. What sort of preposterous claim was this? A wizarding school? _He's playing with me,_ Remus thought angrily. _Perhaps he isn't,_ his instincts fired back. 

"Remus, would you like to sit down? You look pale," Dumbledore asked. 

"I'm fine, thank you." 

They continued, and neither of them spoke for a good while. Remus secretly hoped the old man might tire and leave, but then he remember that there wasn't really anywhere to go that was close by. And Dumbledore's stride had not flagged one bit. 

They reached the trailer in silence. It had been barely secondhand when Owen Lupin had bought it six years ago, and to their credit the Lupins kept it up very well. Roberta was out back hanging up clothes, but Owen was inside, and so the door was unlocked. Remus solemnly opened it, then turned to Dumbledore. "Won't you come in?" Dumbledore bowed slightly and entered the trailer, the young boy trailing him a few feet. 

Owen Lupin was hunched over a mortar and pestle, mixing up a Sleeping Solution. He was so absorbed in his work, he only noticed the two people in the trailer when Remus announced, "Da, this is Mr. Dumbledore. He wants to talk to us about something." His head jerked up, and he then stood up so quickly his chair fell over. 

"Professor Dumbledore..." he repeated in an awed voice. His jaw bobbed up and down, until he found something to say. "Remus, go and get your Mum." 

"Yes, sir," said the boy obediently, and excused himself past Dumbledore into the sunlight. 

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lupin." 

Owen extended a hand and stumbled toward the wizard. "Please, sit down!" 

Remus followed his mother back inside. Both wizards stood again as she entered. She smiled and said "Good day," and then the four of them took their seats around the table. The Lupins watched Dumbledore quizzically. Roberta asked if anyone would like a cup of tea, and Dumbledore answered he was quite partial to the thought. "You stay where you are," she clucked. "You fellows talk while I get this ready." 

Dumbledore then turned his intense blue gaze on Remus. "Well then, Remus, I think there is something I should give you before we continue any further." He removed a letter from his robes, a letter with a wax seal and shining green ink written on parchment. Owen Lupin drew a breath, and his wide eyes followed the letter as it passed hands between Dumbledore and Remus. 

Remus furrowed his brow and opened the letter delicately, knowing that he would want to save it later, whatever it was. He unfolded it and read it to himself. 

"Dear Mr. Lupin, 

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..." His hands fell. He looked at his father. "Da, what's this mean?" 

His father gulped. "If it says what I think it does, it means you have the greatest opportunity of your life in your hands, son." 

A pained look came across Remus's face, but he said nothing. Roberta had turned around, watching, unsure of what her reaction should be. Dumbledore leaned forward. 

"Remus, you know what this means, I assume? That you are magical?" 

The boy's shoulders sagged. _Of course I'm magical,_ he thought bitterly. _What do you think I am? _But he curbed his resentment and answered, allowing his hope to speak for him. "Am I a...a _wizard_ as well?" 

Dumbledore nodded. Remus sighed. He looked around for answers, but he only saw three pairs of earnest eyes on him. "It.. it sounds wonderful, Mr. Dumbledore," he said slowly. "But I'm afraid I can't go." 

"Oh?" Dumbledore said softly. His eyebrows had shot up and there was something in his eyes that Remus didn't know how to read. "And why is that?" 

He said it very quietly. 

Dumbledore looked at Owen. "Is he on the Werewolf Registry?" 

Owen seemed to break out of a trance. "The-the what? Oh, um, er, no." 

Dumbledore nodded. "Good. Newt Scamander had good intentions for the legislation, but it has become a list of people for the Ministry to torment. Now." He turned his gaze back to Remus. "I think that as long we take certain reasonable precautions, I see no reason why you should not be able to attend Hogwarts." 

Remus just stared. "What, you mean... go to school and live with other kids and... be normal?" Dumbledore smiled. The boy looked at his father. "Da, d'you think it could happen? I mean, do you?" 

Owen looked staggered. "Hogwarts is the best there is, anywhere. I think if the Professor believes it can be done, why..." He seemed to remember something. "But, Professor Dumbledore, we've.. we've no money! Hardly any wizard money, less even than Muggle money..." 

The wizard shook his white head. "I have a vault at Gringott's for precisely this purpose. I have little enough use for it, and I believe I am making a very good judgment when I say that Remus has the potential to become an extremely exceptional wizard." 

Remus sat shaking in his seat. He had memories of his life before he was bitten -- of running out whenever he wanted and playing with other children and being careless and very free. It was not something he ever dwelled on -- it was so painful he wasn't even sure if it had ever been real. But the thought of tasting something like that... 

He turned his eyes on his father, who was watching him very closely. "Da?" he said finally. "Can I go?" 

* * * 


	4. Traveling

Remus knew it was all still real when he woke up two days after a full moon and his schoolbooks were sitting on the table. He weakly sat up, and, although aching all over, reached for the mahogany box containing his wand. He carefully flipped the lip and studied it. "Ten inches, rigid, slender, elm and dragon heartstring, good for self-defense," he whispered, repeating the words of strange Mr. Ollivander.

He heard something moving around him, and craned his neck, squinting into the early dawn light. His mother was pulling a mug out of the refrigerator. She shuffled over to his bed -- the couch, really -- and offered the mug. "Drink it," she said softly. "Your dad made it up while you was sleeping. Says it'll keep you awake." He took the mug and sipped it -- it tasted foul at first, but it warmed him, and after a few more swallows, he felt more alert.

"Get up," she continued in the same soft voice. "Mr. Pettigrew will be coming to collect you soon." Obediently, Remus struggled upright and rolled off the couch. He looked around the trailer. All his possessions had last night been packed into two hefty trunks that Owen Lupin had acquired through a want ad. Remus grabbed at the handle of one of his trunks, and Roberta didn't object as he dragged it outside onto the makeshift front porch. He brought the other one out too, and then sat panting atop it. He then returned inside and gathered his books and his wand, and put them into the messenger bag his mother had made him.

He waited, watching the sun rise off to the east. Owen came out and joined him. Both were silent for a while, enjoying the beauty of the spectacle. Finally, Remus's father commented, "Should be comin' soon," and went inside. He came back out again with Roberta, and the two stood on either side of their son, fussing and talking and exclaiming over and over again how they couldn't believe it was all happening. Remus could only smile. He'd never been so excited in all his born days. He wasn't sure what it was that was keeping him still, what was stopping him from leaping off the porch and shouting for joy. He kept searching the area, wondering when Mr. Pettigrew would arrive.

A bang suddenly disturbed the morning quiet, and the Lupins jumped up, alarmed. When the smoke cleared, they saw a very short, portly man clamoring out of a very beat-up Austin Mini. He gave the Lupins a weak, sheepish grin, and said, "She's a bit heavy on the get-go, but she's a good lass all the same." He dusted his trousers off and scanned the family in front of him. "You must be young Remus," he said with that same bashful grin. The boy nodded eagerly and stood up, hefting his back up on his shoulder.

Mr. Pettigrew came forward and breathlessly introduced himself. He then rubbed his hands together and examined the two hefty trunks. As Remus followed his gaze, he realized with a sinking feeling that they would never fit in the ridiculously small car, not to mention two other people. When he pointed this out to Mr. Pettigrew, he chuckled and drew a wand from an inner coat pocket. "Don't you worry about it, son." He muttered, _"Wingardium leviosa,"_ and Remus witness his first piece of magic. The two pieces of luggage leapt off the porch, narrowly missing Mrs. Lupin, and drifted over to the car. Mr. Pettigrew opened the trunk and guided them in. Remus watched, his jaw agape. When the two cases had disappeared into the car, he sputtered, 

"Wh-where did you put them?!?"

Mr. Pettrigrew smiled. "Come and see if you'd like."

Remus ventured over and examined the trunk of the car. It had somehow been expanded, and had enough space to make a station wagon jealous. Remus blinked, and looked at his parents, his eyes wide. His father grinned. Then he exclaimed, "C'mere, boy, let us see yeh one last time."

Remus's voice caught in his throat. He walked over to his parents and was enveloped in hugs. His mother began to cry, and Owen too looked like he might begin to blubber if things weren't ended quickly. He was finally let go, and giddily walked away and climbed into the car. "Send us a letter as soon as you get there!" his mother cried as the door slammed shut.

"Thank you, Pettigrew!" his father called out. Mr. Pettigrew smiled again and waved. Remus kept his face pressed to the glass, and only looked away when his driver advised him,

"Strap in and hold on, we've got to get back to Little Marshwood for Peter." The world around the car began to spin, and Remus felt his stomach lurch forward. He gasped in surprise, and hid his head between his knees. After five minutes of movement, the car pitched forward and landed somewhere with a heavy bump. Mr. Pettigrew gave an apologetic shrug, and climbed out of the car. Remus did the same.

They were parked in front of a row of council houses, all identical two-story affairs with a small front yard surrounded by a brick wall, which had a creaky iron gate on the left. "Would you like something to eat?" Mr. Pettigrew asked. "Some cheese and crackers, perhaps? We've got a bit of a drive ahead of us, and Merle doesn't like crumbs in the car." Remus shook his head, but thanked him. Mr. Pettigrew nodded, and said, "Well, we won't be but a minute. Peter should be ready by now..."

Remus sat in the car for twenty minutes before the front door opened again. Finally Mr. Pettigrew came bustling out of the house, followed by a rather hefty woman and a boy Remus's own age. The Pettigrews were each hauling a trunk, but none used the _"Wingardium leviosa"_ Remus had seen before. The woman began bawling about her little baby going off on his own, and her son -- Peter, presumably -- looked heartily embarrassed. Mr. Pettigrew reminded them of the time, and soon they were driving toward London.

Mr. Pettigrew looked in the mirror at his son sitting in the back. "Peter, this is Remus. Remember, the boy I told you about? So now you'll know somebody on the train! What do you think of that, eh?"

Remus wrenched himself around in the seat and smiled nervously at Peter. "Hi," he said, and awkwardly stuck out his hand. He supposed he should have gotten out and sat in the back too, but it was too late for that now. Peter returned the timid smile which he shared with his father, and limply shook the offered hand. 

The drive was about two and a half hours, and the conversation consisted mostly of Mr. Pettigrew asking the boys questions and telling stories about his son, who shrank into the seat somewhat. When the car entered London, however, Remus spent his time glued to the window. He'd never been anywhere near a city before -- except for that brief trip to Diagon Alley ten days ago -- and couldn't drink in the sights fast enough. He was a bit disappointed that he was only going to be whisked away from all this as soon as they got to King's Cross Station, but he told himself firmly that there were much greater things awaiting him at the other end of the train ride.

They parked the car, found three trolleys to carry the trunks the Muggle way, and headed into the station. The noise of so many people was alien to Remus, and quite disorienting. He did a lot of gawping, but also just as much worrying about his safety and sanity. All this combined with the pounding headache from the last full moon... He held his hands over his ears, and watched Mr. Pettigrew's mouth to see when he should listen. Mr. Pettigrew examined the paper with directions to the Hogwarts Express. "Hmm... yes, I think I remember this. Platform 9 ¾, where are we, now?"

Remus furrowed his brow, but scanned the view all the same. Nine and three-quarters? That seemed awfully funny... Why would there be a platform that wasn't a whole number? And where _was_ it? But Mr. Pettigrew was steering his cart towards 9 and 10, and as Remus and Peter exchanged glances, they silently agreed to follow the one who seemed to know what he was doing.

"Now do just as I do, boy," Mr. Pettigrew muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "Just run between the two, straight at the barrier -- nothing to be afraid of, it'll let you through." Remus's legs seemed locked together, but he made them move to follow Peter and his father. As he strolled toward the barrier, closing his eyes hopefully and feeling very stupid, he felt his heart begin to pound. _Maybe it was all a great prank. Maybe they're leading me to some sort of roundup where I'll be taken away and locked up! Maybe I'll just fall over the barrier and be run over by one of those trains--_

"Alright, boys, there it is!"

Remus opened his eyes. He realized he was panting, and shook himself. He gazed around at the new space he was in. A bright red train with the golden words _Hogwarts Express_ emblazoned on the side puffed patiently on the track. Parents and children of all ages milled around. Caged pets, especially owls, screeched and howled and made more ruckus than the chattering crowds. The train suddenly let out a long, echoing bellowing sound. Mr. Pettigrew glanced at a large clock nearby. "Heavens! We're just in time! Fifteen minutes, boys -- let's get you on that train."

Remus was staring even more at the people around him now than ever before. People wearing pointed hats, wearing robes, carrying broomsticks -- they really _were_ wizards! He stopped walking once and stopped to gaze at a boy showing off a talking cat. Mr. Pettigrew then grabbed his arm, saying, "Come now, Remus, we don't have much time!" They loaded their things onto the furthest car down, because that seemed to be the emptiest. After Mr. Pettigrew got them settled in to their compartment (which seemed bigger than the Lupins' trailer had ever been), he hugged his son and ruffled Remus's thick brown hair. "See you boys in the summer!" he boomed, and was gone.

Peter watched his father through the window. "Phwew, I'm glad that's done with!" he said finally. "I was wondering when he'd stop telling you embarrassing things I did when I was small." He gave Remus another weak grin, who returned it. After a moment's pause, he said, "D'you like Chocolate Frogs?"

"I've, um, never had them."

Peter's face brightened. "Would you like one? I've got a whole bunch in my bag for the trip. They're my favorites, besides Fizzing Whizbees, that is."

Remus looked at him curiously. "What're those?"

A dreamy look crossed the other boy's face. "Ooo, they're these little sherbet candies, and when you suck on them you float for a few minutes. And they sort of fizz in your tongue and they're just lovely." He began rooting through one of his bags. "Here, let me get you a frog."

The train began to move forward, and Remus watched the train station slid away. As he sat sucking on his second Chocolate Frog ever (having already examined and marveled at the moving pictures on the collectible cards), the door to their compartment slid open with a loud, jolting _thud._ The two of them looked up, startled. Remus nearly choked on his frog.

Another eleven-year old, a thin boy with too-large glasses and uncontrollable black hair that put Remus's wild mess to shame was standing in the doorway. "Mind if I come in?" he asked.

Remus, eager to make as many friends as he could, scrambled to move his things off the seats. "Sure!" he said. "Sit down."

"Thanks." The new boy flashed them a smile. His teeth were very white and straight. After he'd dumped his things up on the rack above, he sat down next to Peter. "I'm James Potter," he said.

"Peter Pettigrew," Peter said quietly. "Would you like a Frog?"

"Sure thanks."

"I'm Remus Lupin. Where are you from?"

James shrugged. "Near Shrewsbury. We live outside of Godric's Hollow." Peter looked impressed. Remus, who hadn't the slightest clue what that was, nodded. James looked at both of them. "How about you two?"

"I come from Little Marshwood," Peter said. "It's mostly Muggles, but we're happy there."

Muggles again. Remus had gathered from Mr. Pettigrew that a Muggle was someone who couldn't do magic. "Remus, how about you?"

"Hmm?" James seemed to come into focus a bit. He heard the question and then felt trapped. _How do I answer that?_ "Oh. We, um, we move around a lot," he said finally. "We lived near Stonehenge when I was little, but now we're up in the Lake District."

There was a silence, as the three boys waited for somebody else to think of something to say. Then Peter offered, "Anyone fancy some Exploding Snap?"

James's face brightened. "Sure! Have you got a pack out? Mine's in my case."

Peter shuffled around a bit. "Yeah, hold on, it's somewhere..."

"How do you play Exploding Snap?" Remus asked.

James look surprised. "Are you Muggle-born?" he asked, not impolitely.

"Well, my mum is a... a Muggle, I guess, but my da's a wizard. I think."

James smiled. "Well, Exploding Snap's not that hard...."

Remus watched the other two play several rounds, until he got the hang of it. He had lost three times when they were interrupted by a jolly-looking witch pushing a cart full of food and candy. When James saw Remus hanging back, eying something called "Cauldron Cake" rather longingly, he bought three and told him to forget about it. Remus was thankful. And glad. He'd been a wizard only since dawn and he'd already made two friends.

After Remus finally won a game and they got bored with Exploding Snap, they talked. "What house d'you suppose you'll get into?" Peter asked.

"What're those?" Remus repeated for seemed like the millionth time.

"Well," James scratched his head. "I think it's something like teams. They divide you up into houses and you room with those people and so on. There's four -- Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin." He made a face. "My dad says Slytherin is for gits. He said I should hope I get into Gryffindor."

"My parents were both in Hufflepuff," Peter sighed. "I guess that makes things pretty clear for me."

"What about you, Remus?"

"I don't know. My da didn't go to Hogwarts, he went somewhere in Wales. I guess as long as they don't just throw me out, I'm happy." He smiled wanly.

__

I wonder what they'll do with me. Maybe they'll say I'm an animal and I don't belong--

Don't say that! You're a person. Mr. Dumbledore himself came and told you that. Everything's going to be fine.

It was pitch black outside when the train began to slow down, hours later. The three boys eagerly began looking out the window for lights. The Hogwarts Express chugged and slowed and finally stopped with a loud hiss. A voice suddenly boomed through the corridors. "Leave your bags in the train! They will be taken up to the castle shortly. Please leave in an orderly manner. Thank you for riding with us -- enjoy your year!"

Remus, James, and Peter stumbled out onto the platform, much smaller and more primitive than in King's Cross. Hundreds of other students were pouring out of the train as well. A new voice, this time accompanied by a bobbing lantern, thundered overhead. "Firs' years, over here! T'me! Firs' years!"

"Can you see where that's coming from?" Remus asked nervously.

"No," replied James. He looked around, and then grabbed the nearest passing student. It was a tall boy who also had black hair. "Hey, do you know where we're supposed to go?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, can't you see him? Over there. C'mon, we'll all go." Remus peered over the heads as he followed the boy who seemed to know what he was doing. Indeed, the source of the summons was a massive man whose head would have probably brushed the ceiling in the train.

As about sixty children gathered around the giant of a man, he inspected them through the lantern light. When he was satisfied, he grunted, nodded, and then brogued, "Foller me. Yer ter take a special path out to th'castle. C'mon then." The first years surged forward. James, Peter, and the other boy vanished behind a dark sea of heads. Remus froze, then told himself not to panic. He looked around and saw a red-headed girl hurrying after the crowd.

"Hey!" he called out. She turned. "Hey, wait, please!"

"Hurry!" she urged, but she waited. She smiled kindly at him. "Hi, I'm Lily Evans. D'you have any idea of what's going on?"

"Not a clue," Remus sighed wearily, and the pair jogged to catch up with the others.

  
A/N Okay, sorry to leave you guys in the lurch, but I have to go to Maine really early tomorrow morning, so I can't finish this right now! I'll be gone two weeks, but _Thirteen Months Since Morbihan_ will probably be all scribbled out in my notebook and ready for publishing by the time I get back :)


	5. Defying Luna

Lily Evans was a little taller than Remus, and she could just make out the bobbing light of the giant man leading them through the thick foliage, down a narrow, steep dirt path. There was little talking, save for a few frightened whispers. "Where d'you think he's taking this?" "My brother didn't say _anything_ about this!" "I hope he knows what he's doing--" 

"Ooo!!" someone squealed from the front, and Remus got his first view of Hogwarts as the line fanned out on the shore of a huge, black lake. It took his breath away. The sight brushed all his expectations off to the side. As he stood, marveling, he heard someone say in front of him, "There you are!" 

His eyes came into focus, and he saw Peter. "Sorry about that," he apologized quickly. 

Peter shivered, and waved it off. 

James, alongside him, suddenly pointed. "Look!" Remus followed his finger. A fleet of coracles was waiting at the bottom of the hill. The giant man held his lantern up to check the numbers, and then, satisfied, ordered, 

"Four to a boat. C'mon, in then, sharpish now." 

The first-years clamored forward. Too late, Remus watched Peter, James, Lily, and the boy with the black hair climb in. As soon as the boat was full, it pushed off from the shore on its own. Peter turned around and gave him a shocked, "oh my gosh I'm really really sorry" look. Remus knitted his brow and hung back, looking about for someone he might be welcome to share the trip with. 

The last three students to board the coracles were not very welcoming-looking at all. They were a thin, sallow-skinned boy with greasy black hair _(what is it with magic and black hair? _Remus wondered), flanked by two girls with distasteful expressions on their faces. The giant man looked at them, and grunted, "Le's go, kids. Don' wanna be late, do we." 

Remus obediently scrambled into the boat _(I've never been near a boat before what if I fall out and drown they'd like that maybe shut up you!) _and sat, waiting for the other three to join him. With a look of "fine, if this is what it takes to get across," the greasy-haired boy climbed in, and sat in the opposite corner. The two girls followed, and the three of them then sat staring at him as the boat gave a little jolt and started sailing toward the castle on the cliffs. Remus, unused to such eye contact, quickly averted his eyes and studied the water. 

"Who are you?" came a voice. 

"What?" Remus looked up. The boy was regarding him disdainfully. 

"I said, who are you?" 

Remus offered a quick smile. "I'm Remus Lupin. And you?" 

The boy didn't answer the question. Instead, he replied, "Where are your family from?" 

_That question again. _"All over, really," he muttered. The three other children watched him for another moment, then the boy spoke again. 

"I'm Severus Snape. I'm the fifth Snape to come to Hogwarts in the last century. This is Sheile Donnegan, from Castle Monragen outside of Galway, and Janina Woyczek. She's from Poland. She was up for Durmstrang but her parents moved her to England so she could come here instead." 

Remus could tell he was supposed to be intimidated by this. It did, in fact, make him a little scared. What could he say? _My da's from Wales and my mum's a...a Muggle, and I don't think either fact would go over well with you._ Instead he smiled, and politely said, "That's nice." 

Severus sneered at him. Then: "So, what house do you think you'll be Sorted into?" 

_I don't like this._ "I'm not sure. I'm the first one to come to Hogwarts, actually." 

Janina and Sheile exchanged withering looks, then turned them on Remus. He cowered a little, and then swiveled around in his seat to see how close they were to the castle. He furrowed his brow. All the boats seemed to be headed straight for the cliff! _Maybe it'll open up with a password, like "Open sesame" or something._

"Heads down!" the giant roared, and they all ducked. Remus felt a curtain of leaves brush his head. He picked his head up, and saw that they had all entered a cave, a sort of underground harbor. The boats were drifting smoothly toward a pebbly shore. Remus breathed a great sigh of relief as the coracle bumped against the shore, and he hopped out. He spotted James and Peter, and hurried over to them, glad to escape his own boat companions. 

They followed the man up a long flight of stone steps, and emerged in a high-ceilinged room. A witch in brilliant green robes was waiting for them, an impatient tightness around her mouth. 

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," announced the man. 

"Thank you, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall replied curtly. "I shall take them from here." She surveyed the bedraggled looking children in front of her. "Follow me, please!" she ordered, and the new students obeyed, stumbling after her. 

She lead them through several magnificent hallways. Remus could feel his jaw hanging loosely in awe as he gazed all around him, wanting to take in every inch all at once. He only noticed they had stopped when he tread on the back of someone's foot. He looked up at the green-robed witch. 

She welcomed them to Hogwarts, and began a brusque speech informing them about Houses and the Sorting Ceremony. "Please wait quietly here," she was saying when Remus started listening again. "I shall fetch you shortly." 

_Panic._ He had not been listening to a word she'd said. What if she had told them what they were supposed to do? Supposing they had to do some sort of magic? Damn! if only he hadn't left his wand in his trunk on the train. Now he was going to look like a fool. So much for his chances -- 

Two doors swung open. Professor McGonagall shot the crowd a meaningful look, and then swept into the huge room on the other side of the doors. Several people gasped, Remus included. He glanced around -- even Severus Snape was looking interested. 

Four tables teeming with students were all watching them eagerly. Lights seemed to twinkling from every which way, from torches ensconced on the columns supporting the ceiling, to-- 

Stars. On the ceiling. And -- 

Remus stopped dead in his tracks. A newly waning moon shone down on him. A horrible image flickered before his eyes. _The wolf, changing during dinner, leaping up, scattering terrified students, blood flowing, angry howls--_

"Remus, come _on, _move along," muttered James behind him. Remus felt a push on his shoulder, and with a gulp he banished the image and stumbled forward, catching up with the line of first years. His feet brought him to an open space between of the four long tables and a smaller table, perpendicular to them. As soon as he was standing still, he became deaf again, shivering and unable to rip his gaze from the moon overhead. He was vaguely aware of silence, and singing, and applause, but his mind remained on the sky. 

"Ashenthorpe, Amelia!" 

"RAVENCLAW!" 

"Bennington, Annelies!" 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" 

Remus looked up. He saw, but did not understand, Professor McGonagall calling off names. "Black, Sirius!" 

The tall boy who'd shown James and Peter the boats strode forward, an alarming grin on his face. He approached a stool, and sat down, wrapping his legs around the stool's. McGonagall lowered an extremely tattered pointed hat onto his head. The hat slipped down over the boy's eyes, and the whole hall watched with baited breath. Finally, a tear appeared near the base, exposing the boy's eyes. "GRYFFINDOR!" it shouted. _The hat shouted?_ Sirius Black bounced off the stool and swaggered off to the table on the far left. Remus had the faint impression -- _that hat was singing before. I must be losing my mind._

"Cain, Jeremy!" 

"SLYTHERIN!" 

"Donnegan, Sheile!" 

"SLYTHERIN!" 

"Evans, Lily!" 

"GRYFFINDOR!" 

Remus looked back up at the ceiling. He couldn't stop trembling. It was all so confusing. What did Mr. Dumbledore think he could do to keep him safely away from all the others? 

"Hughes, Thackery!" 

"RAVENCLAW!" 

"Islington, Timothy!" 

"SLYTHERIN!" 

He floundered in his thoughts. The group at the front of the room was growing smaller and smaller. 

"Kincaid, Daniella!" 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" 

"Kale-Mickford, Stella!" 

"GRYFFINDOR!" 

"Ledgewood, Michael!" 

"RAVENCLAW!" 

"Lestrange, Gregor!" 

"SLYTHERIN!" 

"Lupin, Remus!" 

"What?" The world came crashing down. Remus was rooted to the spot, staring horrified at Professor McGonagall and the hat. _What if it doesn't shout out a house? What if it yells "Werewolf! Get out!"?!_

"It's you," whispered James hesitantly. Remus turned. Peter was giving him the thumbs-up and mouthing "Good luck!" 

Remus's stomach heaved. He took one heavy step towards the hat. 

He was perched on the stool before he knew what was going on. The hat was coming down over his eyes, and the moon and the sky and the faces and the room had vanished. Everything -- light, sound, smells -- was blocked out. When a small voice in his ear broke the silence, Remus jumped. 

"My my my my!" it exclaimed. "What do we have here?" Remus began to sweat. "Certainly nothing I've seen in a while. Yes yes, it's been many a century since we had a Lupin at Hogwarts..." 

_You...you mean I'm not the first?_

The voice chuckled. "Ah no, young man. Your forebear was a very great wizard indeed. Let's see if you're really made of the same stuff..." Remus had the uncomfortable feeling that the hat was searching him for something he couldn't detect, but should be able to. "Very intelligent, that's plenty evident, and a thirst for what you think you cannot have... Excedingly loyal, though very naive -- you haven't been around people much, have you? I could put in you Hufflepuff, they always take care of the unsure -- but I don't quite think you would be happy there. Far too fierce a heart you have. You need some intensity. Shall I put you in Ravenclaw? You would certainly learn how to use this brain of yours." Suddenly, the voice stopped, as if it had found something troubling. 

Remus stiffened. _Oh no, here it comes. Please let me stay, please put me in a house, any house, as long as I can stay!_

The hat began to speak again. "Oh dear. This explains the extraordinary toughness, the fear, and the loneliness. I must say, I've never come across one of your kind this way before..." The hat was silent for a long time. Remus's head began to ache, and he was sure he was crying. Then: "You have a bravery in you right now that few other wizards have ever matched in their lifetimes. You suffer through countless injustices, and yet you don't lash out. I think there's only one place where you belong. 

"GRYFFINDOR!" 

The last word boomed out for the whole hall to hear, and as Remus lifted the hat off, he could see people clapping and hear their cheers. He stared, still holding the hat, and began to hyperventilate. _I got in! It put me in a house! It--_ A huge grin of relief swept across his face. Shaking, he slid off the stool and handed the hat back to McGonagall, who was watching him with a small smile playing about her face. He turned around to look at the line of students behind him. James was clapping very hard, and Peter looked slightly disappointed. Down at the far end, Severus was looking smugly relieved. But then another face caught his eye, a distinctive visage behind the line of eleven-year olds. 

Dumbledore. His eyes were twinkling with pleasure as he and Remus exchanged looks. Finally, Remus broke away, calling "Thank you!", and bounded off towards the table Sirius Black had sat down at. 

McGonagall's voice came across the hall again. "O'Malley, Katherine!" 

A tall, red-haired boy with more freckles than seemed possible pounded him on the shoulder. "Welcome to Gryffindor!" he beamed. 

"Thank you," Remus said shakily. He took a seat next to Sirius Black, the only other Gryffindor boy so far. Sirius shot him a devilish smile. 

"Hi. I expect we're to be roommates, then. I'm dying to find my way around this place, d'you know anything about it?" 

Remus shook his head. "No, I'm... I'm the first one in my family to come here for a really long time." 

Sirius looked a bit disappointed, but that didn't last long. The hat had just shouted out another Gryffindor. The two of them looked up -- and saw Peter fall off the stool. The whole hall laughed -- the Slytherin table on the other end of the room particularly so. Remus felt a twinge of anger, but ignored it as he patted the chair next to him for Peter to sit in. 

Next: "Potter, James!" 

The result was almost instantaneous. "GRYFFINDOR!" 

Sirius and Remus both let out yells. They looked at each other, a bit surprised, and then began laughing and cheered once more. James's face was flush was happiness as he sat down. "I knew I'd be a Gryffindor," he said breathlessly, "but it feels so cool to hear it out loud!" 

"Cheers!" Sirius declared. Peter squirmed a bit, but he laughed too, and the four of them twisted in their seats to watch the remainder of the Sorting Ceremony. 

With "Wryst, Maryanne" joining Hufflepuff, the Ceremony could finally end. Remus felt like his ears would never work properly again. His head was buzzing with the events of the days -- of his new friends, and his new identity. _I'm going to have to fight to keep this,_ he thought determinedly, _but they'll never know. This is all worth it._

And he looked at the ceiling, right at the moon shining down benignly on the Great Hall, and thought, _Moon, I defy you._

**A/N Yes, I realize I put Peter in Gryffindor. There's a good explaination for this, so don't worry too much about it. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far: Sweetgirl, orion, andicarmen, Jessica, and _especially_ Thing1 :) Right, let's make this list longer next time! Thank you *grin***


	6. Waxing

The red-haired boy who'd welcomed Remus to Gryffindor House surveyed the first-years lingering behind as the rest of the students left after the feast. Remus didn't know when he'd felt so full or so happy. He was sure he had the most ridiculous grin on his face -- his new housemates, especially Sirius, were highly entertaining companions. 

"Only four Gryffindor boys this year, is it?" he said. "Ah well, suppose you'll be up to snuff! I'm Arthur Weasley. I'm a seventh-year prefect. Anytime you need advice, you get lost, you forget the password to the common room, or you need help with Muggle Studies, I'm your man." A sudden look of interest came over his face. "None of you are perchance Muggle-born, are you?" he asked keenly. 

Peter burped, and Sirius began to snigger. The girls tittered. Remus, feeling foolish, raised his hand and said, "My mum's a Muggle." Three of the five Gryffindor girls, including Lily, raised their hands too. 

Arthur looked over them. "Any of the rest of you? No?" He looked disappointed. "Oh well. Right then, follow me." He lead them out the Great Hall, up a huge marble staircase, and down a confusing set of hallways. Remus had no idea how any of them were supposed to find their way around come tomorrow morning. His head was fairly spinning before Arthur stopped in front of a very silly-looking portrait of a rotund woman in a pink dress. 

Remus was sure few things could astonish him, after today -- but he actually fell over when the painting squinted at Arthur and demanded, "Password?" 

Arthur turned to the first years and advised, "Remember this one, guys. It won't change until Christmas holidays, but it's pretty essential." He turned back to the portrait and answered, _"Fata Morgana."_

"Welcome back, Arthur," she said in a fruity voice as the portrait swung forward. 

The new students gazed around at the room they found on the other side of the wall, but Arthur hurried them forward. "You need to get to bed, now!" he tutted. "You've got a big day ahead of you, and you've have a big one behind you as well. Dormitories are in the towers on either side of the common room." He pointed to two staircases at opposite ends of the room. "Boys on the left, girls on the right." He craned his neck. "Molly!" he called, and another redhead, a short, pleasantly round girl walked over. "Molly, d'you mind taking the girls up to their dorm?" 

"Not at all," she said, and as she smiled her eyes shone kindly. "Follow me, then." The five girls parted company with the boys, and Arthur lead them up the left staircase. 

After passing two levels (labeled 'Sixth years' and 'Seventh years'), they reached a landing whose door had a sign reading 'First years' on it. "There you are!" said Arthur cheerfully. "Your home away from home. Breakfast goes from dawn to 8:15, and your first class is 8:30. You'll be getting your schedules tomorrow morning. Sleep tight, then!" Arthur then shut the door, leaving the four boys to survey their room with wonder. 

Four four-poster beds draped with deep red, velvet curtains were spaced evenly around the circular room. Their trunks lay beside each one. Remus noted that his was next to the large bay window opposite the door. Tired as he was, part of him was resentful and part grateful. This way he'd be able to keep a check on the moon without being too obvious. But he'd never escape it, either. He shook his head. _You've got twenty-four days. Worry about it later._ He smiled. He'd never been able to say that before. 

Wearily, he opened his trunk and pulled out a pair of pajamas. His eyes watered a little when he saw that his mother had slipped in some flowers. He could feel the potion his father had given him wearing off quite suddenly -- all the pain and exhaustion from the previous full moon hit him again. He collapsed onto his bed. The last thing he heard was Sirius, whispering aloud to James. 

"You know what this means, don't you?" 

Yawn. "Wha _wha _means?" 

"That portrait. The password. There must be _loads_ of other secret passages around this school..." 

If James replied, Remus didn't hear it. 

* * * 

Someone was shaking him awake and saying his name urgently. Remus moaned and rolled over. 

"Remus! It's 8 o'clock! Our first lesson starts in half an hour!" 

Remus shot up in the bed. He looked to see who had woken up him. It was Peter. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?" he snapped angrily. 

Peter shrank a bit. "You looked kind of sick. I thought you needed it." 

_Alright, so he thought he was doing it for the best. Don't blame him, it's not his fault._ "Well, thanks for waking me all the same then," he said, and hurried over to his trunk to pull out some clothes. Peter left, saying "Don't forget your robes. And you'd better bring your bag and your cauldron, our first lesson is Potions. We've got it with the Ravenclaws. Will you sit with me, Remus?" 

"Of course I will," he muttered grumpily. "You go on ahead, I'll find you." 

With that, he found himself alone in the room. His head pounding and his limbs weak and aching, he slid out of his pajamas. He paused, momentarily aware of how alone he was. And he was thankful. Before pulling on his tattered jeans, he bent over and examined the largest and oldest scar on his body: a puckered region on his right leg where the flesh had been torn and savaged when he was five years old. _They cannot see this,_ he resolved, and pulled his pant leg on. 

* * * 

He hurried down to the Great Hall, getting there by following an equally late pair of fourth years. _I wish I had a watch,_ he thought bitterly, _or that there was a clock somewhere._ The Gryffindor table was mostly empty, save for some straggling third year girls, and Arthur Weasley. And -- 

"Remus! There you are!" 

James and Sirius waved him over. They were sitting close to the staff table. As Remus approached, he noticed Dumbledore shoot a meaningful glance at a sickly-looking man at the other end of the staff table. The man glanced at Remus, and then rose, and swept away. Remus was puzzled, but decided to say nothing. Instead, he asked where Peter was. 

Sirius made a face. "Didn't want to be late. Somebody told him Professor Miasma is harsh on late students, so he didn't want to wait." 

James pushed a plate of toast toward Remus. "It's pretty picked over, but lunch should be okay if we get there early enough." 

"It's okay. Really," he protested. _It's okay, I've been hungry before._ But he didn't say it. "Thanks." He glanced around. "Look, I can eat this on the way. Why don't we go find Potions?" 

"Okay." 

They asked Arthur Weasley, and he pointed them toward an unpleasant passageway leading down to the dungeons. "I'd best hurry, though," he warned. "Miasma's not one for going lightly on late Gryffindors." 

"Why--" But Remus felt Sirius jerk his arm and insist on leaving. They jogged through the corridors, and had to ask some older students directions several times, especially after a straight-faced Ravenclaw girl gave them misleading information, and they burst into a broom closet, apologizing. By now they were running full speed. Remus wasn't sure how long he would hold up: the pounding in his chest was now nearly as strong as that against his temples. 

"It--should--be--_huh--_right up there!" Sirius gasped as they turned a corner. Somewhere, a bell tolled. 

"Blood! That probably means we're late!" huffed James with an air of disappointment. 

Remus stumbled, and had to ricochet off the stone walls to keep his balance. "Sorry -- was -- my fault --" 

Sirius snorted, and managed to throw on a cavalier attitude as they hurtled toward the end of the hall. "Pish tosh, my boy!" 

"Aahh!!" Remus tripped on his leaden feet, and found himself sprawled in front of an open door. James and Sirius didn't stop quickly enough, and the three boys were quickly tangled in each others' legs. A tall, hunched form suddenly filled the doorway. 

"Well..." a sibilant male voice hissed. "Might these be my three miscreant first years?" 

Remus scrambled futilely to pull himself up. James and Sirius were staring upward, expressions of horror on their faces. To everyone's surprise, the man towering above them lowered a hand and offered it to Remus. His face burning and his whole body aching worse than ever, he accepted the hand and shakily pulled himself to his feet. He looked up to see who had helped him, and recognized the man Dumbledore had whispered to at breakfast. With a glare, he swept into his room, leaving the three boys to follow. They sheepishly took seats at the back of the classroom -- well, Remus did, anyway. James had a nervous grin on his face, and Sirius looked positively delighted that he had made such a grand entrance. Peter kept trying to catch their eye, but Remus was too tired to do much more than listen to the teacher's voice. 

"I believe strongly in first impressions," he was saying, "but I pray you'll not judge me by my taking ten points from Gryffindor for your spectacular arrival." Remus sighed. _Not even a day here and I'm already disgracing myself. At this rate..._

The teacher surveyed the twenty or so students watching him more or less attentively. "I am Professor Miasma, and I shall be instructing you in the subtle and precise art of potion making..." 

Remus found his ears to be uncooperative again. This was all so new, trying to force himself to be alert and attentive after a full moon. Usually, he slept for most of three or four days after it. The room was blurring around the edges. He fought to keep himself focused. His reflexes were several beats behind everyone else's -- for instance, he only began to remove his quill and parchment when the rest of the class were already scratching away with their first notes. 

After the notes differentiating among the three simplest types of potions (mixtures, concoctions, and solutions), they were paired and Professor Miasma instructed them to blend a Colorfast Concoction. "Be careful with the finished product, as it will stain your clothes by preventing fading," he warned. Remus found Peter catching his eye meaningfully, and so slid a little closer so they could share a cauldron. "Right. The first ingredient is the moth feelers, as you should recall. It is important to blend all the dry elements of the Concoction first, as the liquid component is what makes it active..." 

Remus put a great deal of effort into helping Peter (who had even less of an idea how to make the Concoction than he did), but he simply couldn't seem to manage it. Upon adding the mixed rosewater and bat plasma, the Concoction suddenly hissed, then dramatically congealed at the bottom of the cauldron with a moody _thwunkp._ Professor Miasma hurried over to examine the cause of the noise. He peered in, and announced that the two had instead created a very primitive boggart repellant. 

"What's a boggart?" Remus asked thickly. 

With a small sniff, the teacher answered, "I daresay you shall find out in Defense Against the Dark Arts." He then continued on to another table. 

In the end, two Ravenclaw partners as well as Delia Prewitt and Stella Kale-Mickford successfully produced the Colorfast Concoction. Professor Miasma then instructed the first years to go over pages thirteen and fourteen of _Elementary Potions Explained,_ and to pay special attention to the Scintillation Solution, which would create the illusion of tiny sparkling lights on whatever it was painted on. He looked around the room one more time and then said, "You are dismissed." Remus sighed with relief. He bent down to collect his bag, feeling an almost audible ache in his back as he did so. 

He noticed Sirius, James, and Peter lingering, waiting for him. Most of the rest of the class was gone, and Professor Miasma was stirring something in a small cauldron next to his desk. Remus straightened up, still numbly stuffing things into his bag . "I won't be long, just be a second, really--" 

"Mister Lupin, I want to speak with you. I will write a note for your next teacher." The four Gryffindor boys stared. Remus gulped, and answered, 

"Al-alright." 

Sirius's eyes darted from the back to the front of the room, then to Remus again. "We'll wait outside the door." 

Professor Miasma looked up. "You will not," he said sternly. "You will continue to your next class. Charms, isn't it, for you Gryffindors? I should hurry -- it's quite far off." 

The other three looked to Remus for approval. Remus frowned, and said, "Right then, you go on ahead. Don't worry about me, please." 

"See you, then," Sirius said warily, and they departed. When the room was empty, Professor Miasma summoned Remus to his desk. 

"Don't worry about your things, you can collect them in a minute." Remus obeyed, and silently approached the teacher's desk. He studied the potion Professor Miasma was boiling next to his desk. Something was familiar about it, something about the way it smelled... 

Miasma was pulling on a pair of leather gloves. He spoke very quietly. "Professor Dumbledore has explained your situation to me, and I am glad to try and aid you." Remus couldn't help stiffening, but he forced himself to nod, and to continue to listen. Miasma lifted the cauldron by the handle, and tipped the contents into a large goblet sitting on his desk. "This is an Exhaustion Elixir. It delays the healing sleep you need to recover, gives you energy and numbs whatever pain you suffer after the full moon. It wears off at night, so your recovery can come along bit by bit during the school week. You will stop taking it on the weekend, when you are free to sleep off the effects of your transformation. You are only to take it if the moon occurs during the week, and you are to only accept it from myself." He touched the side of the goblet, and commented, "It ought to be cool enough. It is effective taken cold, but I have found that warmth intensifies the strength. Go on, drink it." 

Hesitantly, Remus accepted the goblet. _If Dumbledore trusts this man,_ he thought, _then so can I._ He sipped it, and instantly felt as though a wash of adrenaline had coursed through his body. He took some gulps, more confident than before. After draining the goblet, he felt as good as he did during a new moon, after a full night's sleep and a good breakfast. He smiled, and said a grateful thank you. 

"Oh!" he exclaimed, realizing something. "My da gave me some of this yesterday!" 

A thin smile crossed Professor Miasma's sallow face. "A wise Potions Master your father must be, then, for this not an easy brew to make." He then hunched down over his desk and dipped a new, raven feather quill into a pot of green ink. "Give this to Professor Flitwick when you arrive in his class. Dumbledore has already explained that you might be a little late." 

Remus thanked Professor Miasma again, and then asked, "Sir? How... how do you reach Professor Flitwick's room?" 

The professor gave him directions, and Remus finally left the dungeon. He found Sirius waiting for him at the top of the marble staircase. "Hi!" Remus said brightly. 

"What happened?" Sirius inquired, concern in his voice. 

"Oh, nothing. I'm fine! I've had a route explained by Professor Miasma -- we should get there in time if we hurry." 

* * * 

Remus discovered that with his strength and concentration with him, his classes went extremely well. He hadn't received a schedule yet, but by following his roommates, he learned the Gryffindor routine rather quickly. He sorted out the jumble of Potions, Charms, Herbology, Astronomy, Transfiguration, History of Magic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts by the end of the first week, and even learned a few handy shortcuts from Professor Miasma as he took his Exhaustion Elixir before his first class of the day. 

Before his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson on Thursday afternoon, Remus was convinced that no other classes could be more interesting than Charms and Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick had introduced them to the levitation charm Mr. Pettigrew had used on Remus's luggage. Sirius began a heated competition with Lily Evans, trying to make his feather hit the ceiling with enough force for a good loud smack. While he repeated the charm louder and more vehemently, the feather hung stubbornly above his head until it burst into purple flames. And that morning in Transfiguration, James had amazed Professor McGonagall by accidentally and quite spontaneously changing a nearby paperweight into a hummingbird. The head of Gryffindor House had been so taken aback she took away five points, and later gave him ten. 

Defense Against the Dark Arts was the only class the Gryffindors had with the Slytherins, and Remus secretly dreaded spending ninety minutes in the same room as Severus Snape, who had quickly formed a small but vicious gang comprising Gregor Lestrange, Tim Islington, Paul Steward, and Ursinus Wilkes. Sheile Donnegan and Janina Woyczek were the unspoken leaders of the female counterpart: they would walk four abreast with Melinda Tanner and Hyacinth Pillager, as Hortense Bulstrode lurked behind. 

He confessed his fears to the other Gryffindor boys as they waited outside the classroom. James shook his head. "Look, just don't listen to them if they're asses. Ignore them." 

"What?!" Sirius squawked. "Ignore them?" 

"Yes," said James reasonably. "There's nothing to be gained from fighting with them." 

A glint entered Sirius's eye. "Ah, but there is _everything_ to be gained from revenge, my dear Jamesie." 

"Revenge?" Peter squeaked. Before Sirius could elaborate, however, the two Slytherin gangs arrived in the corridor. The Gryffindors and the Slytherins eyed each other, each with varying degrees of dislike upon their faces. Snape, however, made the first move as he spotted Remus. 

"Why, hello, Remus Lupin from all over," he sneered softly. 

He gave a stiff reply. "Good afternoon, Severus." 

Snape smirked. "Had plenty of things to write home about? I suspect you would, seeing as none of your family has ever come here before." 

"That's not true," Remus said quietly. "Callum Lupin graduated from Hogwarts in 1657. He was Head Boy and he later discovered the Eight Greatest Uses for the Patronus Charm." 

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Are you making that up? Do you know anything about what you've just proclaimed?" Behind Snape, the other Slytherins were exchanging sniggers and incredulous mutterings. 

Remus felt his face reddening. "It's true," he stated. "I found it in the library Monday night." That was a lie. James had discovered it as he'd flipped randomly through _A History of Magic_ Wednesday evening. 

The door to the classroom opened. The Gryffindor girls walked in first. Then the Slytherins pushed their way past. When Snape reached Remus, he stopped, and whispered maliciously, "I don't believe you." 

Remus felt tears springing unbidden into his eyes. He watched Snape's greasy head pass into the room, and clenched his fists. _Don't let him get you,_ a voice whispered. _Don't give him that satisfaction._

_I know, I know, but he's **awful**!_

"He'll pay," another voice whispered grimly in his ear. Sirius was watching Snape darkly. "Don't you worry about that. It'll just be a matter of time... Come on, let's go in." 

The DADA classroom was a sparse affair, with none of the bookshelves or cabinets the other teachers had. Apart from desks for the students and the professor, the spacious room was empty. The Slytherins seemed to have claimed the seats on the right side of the room, and they sat, looking vastly underwhelmed by their surroundings. 

"I'll have none of that!" a voice said from the front of them room. A thickset, grizzled wizard with a stiff leg was shuffling toward the Slytherins, who were looking indignant and confused. "I'll have none of this self-segregation! Houses are not meant to be used as 'the other' against which you must battle. I'll be assigning you seats alphabetically, so I'll ask you not to get comfortable where you're sitting." 

The man turned, and addressed the whole room. "I am Professor McKinnon. I am Head of Hufflepuff House, and a decorated veteran of the war against Grindelwald. I shall be introducing you this year to Dark creatures. Hopefully you will be able to apply what you learn to other areas of Defense Against the Dark Arts, such as curse and hex deflection, dueling, and, when are you seventh years, the breaking of spell circles." 

Professor McKinnon cleared his throat, and drew a pair of slim glasses from a pocket in his robes. He picked up his class list and scanned it for a few moments. All the first years watched him apprehensively: neither of the two Houses were looking forward to mixing. Finally he began reading off names and pointing students to their chairs. Sirius was in the far left corner, and both he and Jeremy Cain sat shooting mutinous looks at the teacher. Remus found himself sitting between Gregor Lestrange and Peter. James was close to Sirius in the row behind, with Delia Prewitt and Hycainth Pillager for company. Unpleasantly, a trick of fate had Severus Snape sitting right behind Remus. He shuttered. This was _not_ going to be a fun class. 

But his opinion of the class changed very swiftly with Professor McKinnon lifted a cage from under his desk, pulled off the cover, and revealed the most violently red-orange bird Remus had ever seen. It glared around the classroom, occasionally making a low _"Fwerrrp, fwerrrp"_ sound and then a raucous trill. It then began to sing, in a high, warbling voice that seemed to pierce Remus's very skull. 

_It's not such a bad sound,_ he thought appreciatively. _How can this be a dark creature?_

He then remembered that, technically, _he_ was a dark creature, and he sobered very quickly. He looked around at the others. Gregor Lestrange was wincing, and he could hear Snape muttering "Shut the damn thing up!" On the other side of the room, Sirius was giving the bird an intense look, and James had slunk back in his chair, and was rubbing his arms furiously. 

_"Tradete vox!"_ the professor cried, and the bird instantly became mute, though it continued moving its beak and was shaking its feathers angrily. McKinnon gave them all a meaningful look. "This bird is called a Fwooper. It is native to Eastern Africa, Burkina Faso and Nigeria in particular. As you see, it is a beautiful creature, with a song that is very pleasant at first; but prolonged exposure will drive the listener mad. African wizards have always had a terrible time trying to keep Muggle pet shops from selling them." 

After half an hour of dense notes about the effects of the Fwooper's voice, and the ways of staving off insanity, Professor McKinnon urged them to put their parchments away and take out their wands. They spent the remainder of the lesson taking turns silencing the bird, and they were not dismissed until everyone succeeded. 

"How cool was that?" James gushed as they left the corridor and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. "I'd love to send one of those to my Aunt Berle, she's nutters already -- bet she'd love the company!" 

"And how neat is McKinnon?" agreed Sirius. "I didn't think Hufflepuffs were like that. I thought they were all duffers!" 

Peter flinched, but didn't say anything. Remus suddenly remembered that both his parents were Hufflepuffs. "Each House has its merits, you know," he said quietly. "There are worse things on earth than being a Hufflepuff." _Yes, like being--_

"Yeah, like being a Slytherin!" snorted James. "I was watching Snape -- what a twit! Did any of you notice how he spent half the lesson complaining about how useless it was?" 

"How could we not hear it?" Peter agreed. He paused. "Or smell him. He needs to learn that baths _do _have a purpose." 

Sirius chuckled. "That's something, coming from an eleven year-old!" 

* * * 

_The winter had already passed, and Defense Against the Dark Arts was moving into more serious territory concerning dark creatures. Professor McKinnon paced the front of the classroom and examined all his students carefully._

_"Werewolves," he said finally. "Werewolves. They are among the most feared and most dangerous of all the creatures we are going to study this year. They are primarily a threat because of their almost human intelligence -- for, were they not human once themselves? Werewolves are monsters in our midst, and their daily treacheries of luring us into friendships or trust are only to serve their own lust for human blood."_

That's not true! _Remus tried to shout._ Nobody asks to be bitten! We hate it just as much as you do! 

_"Mr. Lupin!" Professor McKinnon's voice seemed to echo from a long way away. "Will you please come up to the front of the room?"_

_Remus's feet moved without his permission. Slowly he rose and walked around the desks and stopped at the front of the classroom, where everyone could see every inch of him. Professor McKinnon began circling him, pointing prodding at various places on his body. "As humans, werewolves are identifiable by several key features. First, note the characteristics of the eyes. The pupils have inordinate amounts of pigment in them, and can grow extremely large at night for good vision in the dark."_

My mother always loved my eyes,_ he whimpered._ She says they're good Welsh eyes! It's not because-- 

_"Secondly, observe the teeth." He forced Remus's mouth open, and yanked his jaw downward. Remus yelped with pain, but no one took any notice of him. James and Sirius, he realized with a feeling of despair, were calmly taking notes and examining him the same way they had looked at the grindylow. "Note the unusual sharpness, the keen tearing canines that linger in this shape."_

You're lying!_ he shrieked._ There's _nothing_ different about my _teeth...!_

_"And of course," Professor McKinnon was saying, the volume of his voice escalating, "there is the incontrovertible evidence of SCARS!" Before he knew what was happening, Remus felt his pants fall to his feet, and he was left standing there in only his robes, shirt, and boxers. He began to cry. Somewhere in front of him, Severus Snape was laughing softly._

_"The location of the original bite is a very useful spot to know, as with the proper spell you can force the werewolf to reveal himself." McKinnon raised his wand and circled around Remus. He addressed the class at his back. "Go to the back of the room and be ready to evacuate if I see it necessary." He pointed his wand at Remus, who began to plead with him._

No, please don't! 

_"Be ready, students!" McKinnon cried._

_Remus screamed. _No!! 

_"Luna dixit: venio lupus!"_

_And he began to change in front of the entire class._

"Remus! Remus! Wake up! Remus! What's wrong?!" 

He found himself knotted in the sheets of his bed, soaked with sweat, and being shaken by two sets of hands. Sirius was staring at him with a frightened expression on his face. James was squinting, as he didn't have his glasses on. Remus looked from one face to the other, terrified and mute. Then, finally, he choked, "I -- I must have had a nightmare." 

Sirius furrowed his brow with concern. "Are you alright?" 

Remus disentangled himself and sat up. "Yes, yes I'm fine! Thank you." He cleared his throat, and then sat there panting for a few moments. James watched him. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" 

Remus smiled weakly. "I will be. Really, it's alright, I'll be fine in a few minutes. Go back to bed." 

Their faces mixtures of concern and sleepiness, James and Sirius muttered good night and crawled back into their beds. Remus, however, lay wide awake, staring out the window through his curtains. Thursday night -- two days from now -- the moon would round out, and he had no idea where he was going to go. 

* * * 

  
  


Hi there! I've finished this chapter since ff.net has been down, so I don't know if anyone else has reviewed... so *hoping!* if anyone new has, then thankee much! Tune in next time for: The Adventures of Eluding Three Of Your New Best Friends; or, Making Up Plausible Excuses in Deference To Telling The Truth 


	7. Nadir

__

Dear Mum and Da,

Hello! Hogwarts is really really wonderful! I still can't believe I'm here. The other Gryffindors are really great people. James is good to have around because he seems to understand all the subjects a whole lot better than the rest of us, and when we're all working too hard, Sirius always has something to distract us with. Have you ever heard of fireworks that you can light off inside? The first time he let them off in our room I thought someone must have hit me over the head! Peter is pretty quiet, but he's nice too.

I think I've already found my three favorite classes -- Charms, where you learn to do the sort of magic the Muggles write about in storybooks; Transfiguration, where you turn one thing into another (I finally got a nail to turn into a pencil the other day!); and Defense Against the Dark Arts, where we're learning about dark creatures. I'm not sure what's going to happen once we reach werewolves, but I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has something taken care of. He's the most amazing person I've ever met in my whole life! He's a bit odd, though -- I don't remember this, but Sirius swears he stood up and starting saying "Ooshy gooshy galoshes! Icky sticky bubbly tuna!" after we all got here. I'm not sure how much I believe Sirius, though: he's usually messing with people if he gets the chance.

And please, enjoy tomorrow evening. Don't worry about me. Professor Dumbledore has something all worked out. And since it's a Thursday, and I have class on Friday, on Friday morning I get an Exhaustion Elixir like you made me from Professor Miasma to keep me awake until the weekend. I was so proud of you Da when Professor Miasma told me you were a great Potions Master! And now I can understand a bit of what you do. It's so complicated -- I don't know how you pull it off!

I'm sorry, I would love to write more, but Peter is telling me that dinner might be over soon, so we have to get downstairs. Love,

Remus

* * *

Early Wednesday morning, before the dawn began seeping into the horizon, Remus sat up, rolled out of bed, and dressed himself. Not only was his stomach growling, an uneasiness was prowling the edges of his consciousness. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night, and he had no place to go. What was he going to do, lock himself in the dormitory? He shuddered at the idea, imagining the state of the room and the awful explanation he'd have to give.

In the half-light before the sunrise, he quietly wound his way down the spiral staircase, crossed the common room, and crawled through the portrait hole. Technically, at this hour, Filch couldn't nail him for anything, but he didn't wish to take any chances. He crept silently along the hallways, checked around corners, and edged his way down the marble staircase. As he crossed the floor, intent on making a silent entrance to the Great Hall, someone said his name and he froze.

"Good morning, Remus!"

His breath caught in his throat, and he looked up, bracing himself -- but it was Professor Dumbledore advancing on him, and looking not in the least like he would punish him. Remus offered a timid smile. Dumbledore beamed at him. "Down for an early breakfast?"

"I-I suppose -- erm, yes, sir," he answered.

Dumbledore nodded. "Have you enjoyed your first month here at Hogwarts?"

Remus's face lit up. "Oh, yes sir! Everything is wonderful! I--" He suddenly remembered himself, and stopped, a dismal expression on his face. Dumbledore watched him.

"But now the first month is drawing to close."

"Yes, sir," he replied miserably. Dumbledore studied him for a moment, and then said,

"Would you mind accompanying me for a short stroll through the grounds? I find that a walk through the early morning mists is quite an invigorating start to a new day." Remus nodded, supposing he couldn't very well refuse. The pair exited the front hall, Remus marveling at Dumbledore's opening charm on the heavy front doors, and walked down the steps. The cool Scottish air made the young boy shiver, but the old wizard strode ahead as though unaware. He would sometimes remark on the beauty of the lake, or the noise of the waking birds. Then, almost catching Remus unawares, he murmured, "We have a procedure in place to get you to a safe haven tomorrow evening. Do you see that willow tree over there? The one that's swaying more than the other trees?" Remus nodded, listening hard. 

"The Whomping Willow guards a tunnel that will lead you to an old house in the village of Hogsmeade. When you feel ready, you are to go to the Hospital Wing and find Madame Pomfrey. You have seen how long it takes to reach the Willow -- you must allow ample time. Madame Pomfrey will escort you there and let you in. After that, you follow the passageway until you reach a door. You must enter the house, and remain there until Madame Pomfrey comes to collect you at dawn. Do you understand me?" He gave Remus a serious, trusting look. Remus nodded, an attentive, solemn expression on his face. Dumbledore continued.

"Tomorrow morning at breakfast, you shall receive an owl informing you that your mother has fallen ill, and that you must go to her as soon as your lessons are over. If your friends ask you, you may show them the letter as proof. I do not know what you will tell them next month, but I trust you can more than handle the matter." Remus felt his stomach twist. He had never been good at lying. _I guess you're just going to have to learn, aren't you._

"Well," Dumbledore exclaimed, "I think that has put a good appetite in me! Shall we go back and have some breakfast, do you think?"

"I should very much like that, sir," Remus answered, smiling a little. 

* * *

Sirius began interrogating him as soon as he sat down at the Gryffindor table. "Remus! Where have you been?"

He tried to stay calm. "I couldn't sleep, so I went downstairs early." Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Well, at least we've found you now. Look, I've had an idea. A moment of late-night brilliance that I wanted to share with you."

Remus's grip on his spoon suddenly tightened. He looked up, alarmed. James was smiling, Peter looked uncomfortable, and Sirius had a most disturbing grin plastered across his features.

"What is it??"

"Snape. We're getting him back for being such a git to you in McKinnon." The color returned to Remus's knuckles. Sirius pretended to examine his fingernails casually. "On some inside information, I have discovered, with _great_ sympathy of course, that poor dear Sevvie has an aversion to Chizpurfles. _Seems_ they bring him out in a rash." Sirius smirked. "Perhaps the reason he keeps himself so _greasy_ is that he hopes he shan't be... _infested."_

"Sirius wants to dump them on Snape's head after Defense," James informed them, cutting to the chase. _"I'll _have no part of it. It's too easy to get into trouble." He paused. "But I think I'll hang about to see the look on his face..."

"Wimp. I intend on corrupting you first."

Remus looked skeptically at Sirius. "Surely you don't think it's going to work, do you?" He was surprised by his response: he _should_ have said "That's really not necessary" or "I can handle him" or "Do you really want a detention?" 

Sirius's voice was innocent. "I heard Professor Binns complaining to Filch that they were ransacking his desk. So, before he came in, I scooped a couple up. To lessen the problem -- you know how Filch is overworked." Remus stared.

"Where are they??"

"In our room!" Sirius answered, a triumphant expression on his face. "Oh, don't look at me like that, I've got a Sealing Spell on it, they can't get out." He grinned again. "There ought to be plenty of them by now -- you know how they breed..."

Peter shook his head, and swallowed a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "I can't believe you're going to do it. I mean, what if they get all over the hallway and damage them?" He shuddered. "What if they get on _us?"_

"Spoilsport! Look, they're common household pests, you can have them off in no time. Binns just couldn't take care of it 'cause he's a bloody _ghost_. He can't move things."

James was sighing. "He won't do it," he muttered to Remus. "He's not that dumb."

Remus cast a sidelong glance at Sirius, who was rubbing his hands together and cackling in a fake deep voice. He raised on eyebrow. "I wouldn't be so sure..."

* * *

He felt odd, walking the halls of Hogwarts in Muggle clothes. Of course, if he'd brought his robes along with him, they'd be ruined. And the others probably wouldn't notice that his dresser was still full. They were still busy congratulating themselves on Sirius's prank when Remus had left. He'd slipped out, unobtrusive, and was now hurrying toward the hospital wing.

Once inside, he saw a plump, youngish witch fussing over a surly, hunched figure. Remus couldn't help smiling, even once he got a closer look at Snape, with his swollen face and angry red hives. But the kicker was his hair. Apparently, to rid him of the lice-like Chizpurfles, Snape had been forced to wash his hair. It stuck up, as though unsure of what to do with itself in this state. As Remus approached, Snape turned his head and glared at him.

"Hullo Severus," said Remus, secretly and guiltily relishing the experience. "How are you feeling?"

Snape's jaw couldn't open, on account of his still-swelling mouth. He merely continued to glower. The witch turned her sharp eye to Remus. She wasn't that much taller than he was.

"Are you a friend? Or have you come for some other injury? Honestly, the things students get themselves into --" She seemed to automatically grab Remus's arm and feel for his pulse.

"Excuse me, ma'am, I'm -- I'm Remus Lupin--" he tried awkwardly.

She dropped his wrist. "Oh! _You're _the boy!"

He was suddenly very aware of Snape sitting there, listening. He shifted uncomfortably. "Are you... Madame Pomfrey?"

The witch nodded, and began bustling around. "I am. You sir --" she pointed at Snape "-- you sit there. Madame Fibula will be with you in a moment." She took Remus around the shoulders. "Come with me, dear." 

As soon as they had hustled out of the Hospital Wing, she turned to him and asked quietly, in a small voice, "How much time do we have?"

Remus glanced out the window. "About an hour and a half," he answered calmly.

Madame Pomfrey tensed. "Oh dear..."

"Really," he protested, "I think it's going to be fine. Dumbledore took me to the Willow yesterday, and I'll have plenty of time tonight."

At this, the nurse relaxed a little, but she still pursed her lips and said, "Well, that's alright, but you ought to know that the passageway to the house is a long way off. It goes all the way to Hogsmeade, in fact."

"Hogsmeade?" Remus repeated, alarmed. "How far is that?"

"Well, you came off the train at Hogsmeade station, so that ought to give you some idea..."

Remus was silent for a moment. "Well, I'll just run, then." He shot another look at Madame Pomfrey, who didn't quite seem to have faith in him. "Really! I think it'll be fine!" She did not reply.

They reached the Willow while the sun was still above the mountains. Remus could tell he had left himself ample time. "Stand back," Madame Pomfrey ordered, throwing her arm across his chest. "There's a reason it's called Whomping." She walked over to a small bush and bent down, rustling through the leaves. She emerged holding a long stick. She bent down low and approached the tree. The tree shook indignantly and began flailing a few of its branches. Madame Promfrey took careful aim somewhere on the trunk and pushed. The tree shuddered and came to a halt. The nurse stood up and wiped her hands brusquely. "There you are, then," she said, unsure of what to do next. "Go on, then. You'll find a hole between the roots. That leads to the passageway." She kept looking at Remus, and she was biting her lip nervously. "You're sure you'll be alright?" she asked, her voice quavering for the first time. 

He smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging way. "Thank you for your concern. I've been doing this since I was five, it's not much to worry about." He winced as he said it, the most bare-faced lie he'd ever told. The transformation was _never_ nothing to worry about. It hurt. But he'd best put on a brave face, or the school might wonder if they should keep him. After another uncomfortable moment, he turned and walked to the base of the tree. He found the hole quickly, and with one last smile and a wave at Madame Pomfrey, he pushed himself inside.

He dropped about four feet, and as soon as he touched the ground rows of torches flared up in their sconces, lighting the way. They seemed to go a long way in the distance, continuing around a curve that looked pretty far away. He gulped, and began to run. The tunnel seemed endless. He could not tell how long he had been running when the first twitching pains shot through him. He gasped, and doubled up. After a moment, he collected his resolve and picked up his speed. After another long spurt, during which the pains began coming closer and faster, he reached the said door. He wrenched it open, and slammed it shut. Instantly he heard several sets of locks clicking. After a bout of hyperventilation, he turned and tried the door. It didn't budge. He frowned grimly. He could only hope it held when the wolf attacked it.

He was sure he didn't have much time left. He began pulling off his clothes, and folded them in a neat pile by the door, hiding them under a chest so he wouldn't be driven mad by the human smell. He was soon stripped down to his boxers (his mother was one thing: he _refused_ to let the school nurse find him naked). He shivered, crossed him arms, and waited.

"Best get far away from the entrance," he told himself. "Don't tempt it." He stumbled out of the room (there were no fires, for good reason) and began climbing a decrepit staircase. It ended in a long hallway. Another level of stairs rose a little further down. He was nearing the top of this second set of stairs when the moonlight hit. It caught Remus by surprise, and he fell down the stairs, landing in a bundle at the base. He bit his lip, determined not to scream. But to no avail. Being in this strange place, with no absolute friends to return to in the morning, made it hurt even more than usual.

* * *

__

Rosmerta sat up in her room above the Hog's Head. A horrible sound had woken her up, a sound more painful and frightening than any she'd ever heard in her life. She rolled over and shook Ortman, her current man, awake. "Did you hear that?" she asked in a breathless, panicky voice.

"Hear wot?" he mumbled groggily.

The noise ripped through Hogsmeade once again. "That!" she whispered fiercely. "What d'you suppose that it?" She huddled up against him, her eyes wide and her heart racing. Ortman frowned, and put his arm around her.

"Well, love, whatever it is, I won't let it get yer." Rosmerta shivered, and hoped it would end soon. But no such luck. She was still up at dawn, when the last of the shrieks and howls had faded into ominous silence.


End file.
